


Burnout

by MetalBit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalBit/pseuds/MetalBit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is called on another peculiar and captivating case. Only, this time, his client is one Dr. Watson, recently escaped from Camp Bastion, Afghanistan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burnout

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I would like to present this work to Misty, a faithful companion of mine. Perhaps others will find pleasure in reading it since she can't, mostly because she is a dog and falls asleep every single time I try to read it to her. I would love to say that I will update this regularly but I am a fickle person without much sense of dedication. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it if you read it, and I appreciate any constructive criticism or pointing out mistakes since this work was not betaed.

* * *

 

"Breathe."

Air is such a critical thing, seemingly boundless but limited in the extreme. A small, tight airway, gasping, gulping, ultimately closing on and over itself, futilely trying to function.

"Come on! Breathe!"

It doesn't actually hurt, the deprivation of oxygen. It's like floating. You can move your appendages at first, until you start losing sensation. Your body starts prioritizing vital functions; limbs become vestigial, useless in their purpose and dead weight. After another minute or two, thoughts start blurring, and there is a certain mindless calm that takes over, making confusion, anger, and desperation sizzle down to oblivion.

"Come on, John! Breathe for goddam's sake!"

Thinking is hard too, but in the deep hind-part of his consciousness, he can register a strange throbbing pressure on his chest, rhythmically pounding against his ribcage. That's right, his ribcage, his body. He can feel it, slowly understanding the scintilla of awareness and touch again. At the next throb of pressure, he gasps, air enters his trachea, bronchi, and finally his lungs. That's when it starts burning.

* * *

 

 


End file.
